The Date
by MarMoo.12
Summary: In which Sherlock does his extreme observational analysis about one of John's dates, but it ends with a (predictable) surprise! Fluffity Fluff. Johnlock. Enjoy!


**First Johnlock story, don't laugh. I just recently got into the show and now it's invaded my life. Oh well :). All characters and such belong to the writers; I only own my ideas. Enjoy! **

He was doing it again. Noticing everything. Analysing. Processing. Deducing. There were no obvious signs on Sherlock's face that his brain was in overdrive, but John could tell. He'd become accustomed to the way in which Sherlock held himself during different situations.

Shoulders hunched when he was bored. Head held high when facing an enemy. Shoulders back, spine straight when accessing his mind palace. And now, head tilted slightly to the left, as he took in every detail.

"Are you going to tell me," John started. "Or shall I explain?"

Sherlock looked up at John's face. He could read every thought that was going through the shorter man's head. Among those was an underlying request for Sherlock to do what he does best. Show off.

"Judging by the outfit you have a date tonight, though not with the same type of woman you normally choose. You're wearing a nice pair of pants, not the casual jeans typical for a casual date. Your shirt is new seeing as it still has slight creases along the front where it was once folded and put on display, though you clearly tried to iron, not very well I see, because the left half is completely flat. This date is someone you care about but have known for a while. I can tell because you haven't bothered to get your weekly haircut or shave your five o'clock shadow, also you're wearing your favourite pair of shoes. Obviously you know this person well enough to not go through every length in order to impress. You care about them because you bought one single red rose. You have a spot of dried blood on your right index finger where a thorn cut it and a water stain on the cuff of your shirt where you pulled the flower from a vase. Seeing as you're dressed nicely but not fancy, you're going to their favourite restaurant, though not _your_ favourite restaurant, again showing that you do indeed care about this person. You're worried you're not going to make your reservation seeing as you keep glancing at the clock on the wall, which brings me to my one and only question. What are you doing here when you're keeping your date waiting?"

Sherlock finished his speech with his eyebrow raised and a slight smile playing around the edge of his elegant lips.

John simply shook his head and chuckled. Sherlock's extraordinary abilities never failed to leave him in awe and admiration. He stepped forward and grabbed Sherlock's hand, heaving him off the chair into a standing position.

"I'm retrieving my date of course," John said, smiling. He produced the rose, seemingly out of thin air, and handed it to the genius detective. Sherlock looked at John with confusion as he slowly took the rose and brought it to his nose. He looked up at John with unmasked happiness, flashing one of his rare genuine smiles. John was sure his heart just liquefied.

"So you already know where we're going, I suppose my big romantic surprise is somewhat pointless now, though I don't know why I even tried in the first place," John said as he grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him to the door. Before he moved two feet he was being tugged back. John whirled around and came face to face with Sherlock, their noses practically touching.

Sherlock leaned in very slowly and pressed his lips tenderly against John's. The kiss was brief, but was full of everything Sherlock was feeling, yet couldn't voice. Gratitude, love, joy, surprise, and more than a little passion. John smiled, and felt Sherlock smile in return.

"Shall we?" Sherlock said in his deep velvet voice. John would never tire of listening to that voice. The two left the flat, hand in hand, and made their way downstairs.

"Next time, try asking Mrs. Hudson for ironing advice."

John simply laughed.


End file.
